Flash Flooding
by justmindy
Summary: Sherlock and Molly are waylaid by a storm on a car trip back to London. How will they spend their time at the side of the road? Resolve some of that sexual tension?


The bright light, quickly followed by a loud boom, tore Molly from her nap, and she raised her head from her travel pillow to peer into the darkness outside her window. Sheets of rain obstructed her view of the already dark English countryside.

"How long has it been raining?" she rasped, her voice dry and sticky with sleep. She cleared it, and took a drink from the water bottle she'd stashed in the travel bag between her feet.

"It's was drizzling for a while, but started falling in earnest about an hour ago," Sherlock slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road, "I think we're better off staying here until it clears up. I can't see a thing."

For a few moments, they sat in awkward silence, the roar of the storm the perfect punctuation to what had been a horrendous day.

When Sherlock asked for her help solving a case a week ago, she'd jumped at the chance. She had time accrued for holiday, and a little adventuring sounded just the thing. Twenty-four hours later, they were walking into the hotel at Barrow-In-Furness, only to find one room available.

One room, with one bed. And Sherlock wasn't the type to sleep on the floor. All week, no matter how they fell asleep, she woke up snuggled against his chest, his prominent morning erection pushing against her back. It was enough to make a girl tense in a way she couldn't relieve while sharing a bed with a friend. He always pulled away once he woke up, blushing almost imperceptibly as he retreated to the bathroom. Well, except for the last day, today, this morning, when he turned her in his arms. He caressed her cheek before leaning in for a tentative kiss. Her hesitation was brief but enough to send him away from her with an apology.

Then their flight was cancelled, forcing them to rent a vehicle and drive back to London in the middle of the night. And it wasn't even a posh car - all they had left was a rusted, late model car with bench seating.

Molly fidgeted with the water bottle, tearing off the label. She sucked in a breath before soldiering on -

"I wanted to kiss you," she blurted out.

"About this morn- what?" he started at the same time.

She closed her eyes, shoring up more bravery, "I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you. I'm sorry I hesitated, but it was early and I'm not very quick in the mornings and," she halted when she felt his hand on hers. She opened her eyes, turning to him as a quick flash of lightning revealed his eyes, now predatory, watching her with unfettered desire. They reached for each other, their mouths colliding at first. Molly winced, checked her mouth for blood, then laughed up at him, "Oops."

This time, when he reached for her, it was gentle. And slow. She slid closer to him on the seat, her hands moving to his hair as she deepened the kiss, their tongues meeting on a moan. His hands were everywhere, his lips moving against hers, and she thought she'd burn from the heat of it.

She straddled him for better access to his shirt buttons, and sighed as she ran her hands over his skin, hot beneath her fingers. He tore off her t-shirt, then grabbed her behind, squeezing as he pulled her to grind against his erection, then pushed her away.

"Wha-," she asked in a daze, blinking as he set her in the driver's seat while he slid onto her side of the car. Before she could ask again, he was pulling her onto his lap, facing away this time. She struggled, wanting to face him and touch him, but he kept firm.

His large hands moved to the fly of her jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, before slipping his hand into her pants. He pulled her closer, reaching deeper until he was stroking her into mindlessness.

"I've wanted you like this all week, settled against me, moving against me," he crooned as he focussed his efforts where she wanted him most. His other hand was beneath her bra, slowly rolling her nipple between his fingers, and she was ready to burst when he stopped his ministrations to whisper in her ear - "Want to play a game, Molly Hooper?"

"Huh? No, no - please don't stop."

He laughed, the husky breath ghosting over her collarbone, "What's wrong? Are you chicken? I won't stop, as long as you play by the rules."

She pressed his hands, trying to get them to move again, "Anything."

His hands on her waist, he pushed up, then pulled the jeans down over her hips. The space was too confined to take them all the way off, but she kicked it to her ankles before sitting back down on his lap. She reached behind her to stroke him through his trousers, and she felt more than heard his head fall back against the seat as he groaned. He quickly regained control, though, as he removed her hands. "Put them on the dashboard, Molly, and don't move them."

"But," she started, but his hands were dipping between her legs again and she did as he commanded. She heard him lower his zipper, and felt him shift his hips, his groin pushing into her, and her hands slipped a little.

"Nuh-uh-uh." he chided, his hands stopping again. She dutifully flattened her palms against the dash. Her reward was his length pushed between her wetness, and the friction made her shudder. He licked her shoulder. "As much as I like to tease, I can't wait," and then his hands were parting her, and he was inside her. They both exhaled in relief, and started rocking their hips together in an unsteady rhythm.

Her fingers curled into the dash as his curled into her hips, and he slowed almost to a stop, "Molly - don't forget," and she straightened her hands again, leaning her head forward as his hips picked up speed again, one of his hands moving forward to rub her clit while the other went back on her breast, now bared, "You feel so good."

It didn't take long for them to lose their heads, Sherlock moving faster and faster, their heavy breaths combining to fog up the glass. Her orgasm hit Molly so quickly, she came with a startled cry, unconsciously moving her hands to his hair and pulling him forward into her shoulder, where he cried out his release.

"You let go," he admonished several moments later.

"I guess I'll have to make that up to you," she teased, turning to kiss him soundly before looking outside. "The rain's stopped. We should go - it's late, and next time I want to do that in a bed."

She felt his grin against her neck before he lightly spanked her bottom, "Yes, ma'am," then he resumed his position behind the wheel and zipping up his trousers, allowing her the space she needed to do up her jeans. She sat a bit uncomfortably, sore and quite dirty.

He must've noticed her squirming, "We're not far from a town I know, with an inn that allows late check-in. At least, for me. They owe me a favor. Maybe we should stop for the night."

* * *

Molly called Stamford the next day, and he was happy to grant her a second week off.

"About time," she thought she heard before he hung up.


End file.
